


The Snake and the Christmas Tree

by whiteacre



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: After End of the World, Aziraphale is really strong and forgets to hide it, Crowley can't even walk straight and keeps blaming his boots, Established Relationship, No Sex, No Smut, christmas trees, my first ever fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:55:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26913229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiteacre/pseuds/whiteacre
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale go looking for a Christmas Tree. Crowley finds more than he expected.
Relationships: Ineffable Husbands - Relationship
Comments: 13
Kudos: 50





	The Snake and the Christmas Tree

The Snake and the Christmas Tree  
By whiteacre

It’s a little early for Christmas, but I couldn’t get this idea out of my head. See bottom for notes.

The Bentley drove along, windows fogged in the cold, “Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy” playing on the CD player. Crowley had never owned a Queen CD, but since he expected to hear it, it played. The Bentley had basically driven itself while they were in London, but now they were beyond the suburbs and heading into the countryside. So, Crowley kept both hands on the wheel. They were going to a tree farm to cut down a Christmas tree.  
It was Aziraphale’s idea. He had found the farm, researched the directions, and had somehow managed to convince Crowley to tie a freshly cut pine tree to the roof of his Bentley, once Aziraphale promised to personally miracle all the scratches and pine sap drippings away afterward.  
So Aziraphale was navigating from the passenger seat, having miracled the directions from his phone onto the foldable paper map that he was used to.  
Crowley was griping from the driver’s seat.  
“I don’t understand why it’s taking you so long to get used to mobile phones, angel. And don’t say the screen is too small. Your eyes are fine, despite those silly little reading glasses you wear!”  
Aziraphale smiled and touched Crowley’s cheek.  
“You told me my reading glasses are cute,” answered Aziraphale. “And I like your sunglasses, even though you don’t need them either. They’re very dashing.”  
They pulled up to the Christmas tree farm. Acres of pine and fir trees in various stages of growth spread out around low hills, surrounding a large red barn with a few high windows and smoke coming from a tall chimney. Rows of decorated wreaths hung on one side wall.  
It being so close to Christmas, the farm was crowded with people going in and out, and workers tying bushy pine trees to the tops of cars. No one noticed Aziraphale and Crowley slip inside.  
A large wood stove warmed the cave-like interior, dimly lit by small, high windows. Crafters worked in the corners of the room making and decorating wreaths and garlands. Next to the wood stove stood a carafe of hot chocolate and a box of ginger cookies for the customers. And, along the far wall, next to the only low window, stood a table with a large, lavish, working train set and miniature Christmas town. Train lights, Christmas lights, and tiny shop windows glowed in the shadows. Tiny train bells tinkled as the train ran around the town and stopped for pedestrians. The streets were lined with bookstores, markets, and ornament shops. On the streets were figures, bundled up and carrying packaged. And in the middle of the little town was an ice-skating rink where small figures wizzed around on the plastic ice.  
Aziraphale clasped his hands under his chin and ran up to the train set, his eyes sparkling.  
“Oh,” he said. “What will humans think of next?”  
Crowley sauntered over to the table, then lifted up a small boy who was desperate to see the reindeer flying school in the back. A small Crowley miracle straightened the sign on the plastic building.  
They stayed inside for almost half an hour, long enough for Aziraphale to have his fill of hot chocolate and cookies and to fully appreciate the delights of the toy train. Crowley just liked to watch Aziraphale be happy.  
But soon, Aziraphale stretched and said, “Come, my dear, we really must pick out a tree, the sun will set soon.”  
They walked out into the snowy day. Aziraphale was wearing a long beige greatcoat with at least two buttons missing. The buttons hadn’t been made since 1892, but Aziraphale refused to miracle new ones, saying he would always know the difference. He had on fur-lined boots and his hands in their fur-lined leather mittens were clasped behind his back. He would have been warm anyway, but, to his mind, the feeling of fur was the best part of winter.  
Crowley walked beside him. Crowley’s jacket and snakeskin boots were thin, but they knew what was expected of them, so they kept out the cold and damp. But he forgot about how slick the soles of his boots were and, halfway up a rolling hillside his boots slid out from under him, and, red soles showing, deposited him leather-clad ass first into the snow. Crowley’s boots would need a good talking-to on the way home.  
Aziraphale helped Crowley up and gave him a very undignified brushing down, and then smiled and miracled sturdy, nubby soles to his boots. Crowley looked down, and, seeing that each sole left an imprint of a snake in the snow, nose-wiggled his thanks.  
They had reached the rows of pine trees, and started walking hand in hand. The pine trees were only a little taller than Aziraphale here, their branches carefully trimmed so they looked like fat, green soldiers trimmed with white.  
Suddenly, Aziraphale dropped Crowley’s hand and clenched his hair with both hands.  
“Oh my, my hat, my hat,” said Aziraphale, looking distraught. “I must have left it back at the barn.”  
“Why don’t just miracle it over?” asked Crowley.  
“Oh, I couldn’t! It’s old, and handmade, and delicate. I’ll just have to go back and get it. But don’t wait for me! No, you go on looking for a tree, my dear, I’ll be right back.”  
And Aziraphale scurried away down the hill towards the large barn.  
Crowley walked on, headed for the demarcation line in the distance where planted trees merged in actual pine forest. He didn’t worry that Aziraphale wouldn’t find him. They always knew where the other one was, ever if they were on the other side of the world. To each, the other was a constant presence on the edge of consciousness, like seeing the sun behind closed eyes.  
So Crowley wandered at ease among the pine trees by the forest’s edge. Azirophale liked his trees well manicured, plump and perfect, just like he was. Crowley liked his trees gangly and twisted, with maybe too few branches on one side, and too many on the other. Trees that had character.  
Crowley was walking, looking at the trees, when he tripped on the hillocky ground and fell flat on his stomach. (His boots were going to need a serious talking to!) There, in front of his nose, was a tiny pine sapling.  
It wouldn’t have even come up to Crowley’s knees had he been standing. Its tiny branches only held up a few tufts of lonely-looking pine needles.  
Crowley moved into a crouch to look at it more closely. He touched the bristly needles sticking up from the top of the sapling. Immediately nine needles fell off of the tree, leaving the top of the tree almost bare. The woods were so quiet Crowley almost thought he heard a soft tinkling as the pine needles hit the snow. This was supposed to be a Christmas tree, Crowley remembered. He tried to imagine it, hung with decorations, but the little tree was so thin that a single ornament would bend it over. 

Weak  
Hopeless  
Disappointing

Crowley hung his head until his red hair covered his face. His glasses slipped forward on his nose, revealing golden eyes filling with tears.

Then, suddenly, Crowley adjusted his glasses and stood up. Demonic power burned from his fingertips and cut into the frozen ground, carving the tree and its roots out of the earth. Because Crowley needed a pot, one popped into existence, feeling a little confused until Crowley slid the tree and its dirt inside. Crowley then walked back to the tree farm to meet Aziraphale, who he sensed was just walking down the hill to find him.  
He first glimpsed Aziraphale at the top of the hill in the fading light, wearing a glowing white top hat, and carrying an eight foot tall, plump, perfect Christmas tree over his shoulder like it was a stick.  
Aziraphale came up to him and said, “Oh, look dear, I found the perfect tree! It will look so lovely in the library.”  
Then, blue eyes shining, he saw the little potted tree and said, “You seem to have found something as well.”  
“I think it needs me,” was all Crowley said.  
By the time darkness fell, they were back in the Bentley with the big Christmas tree tied to the roof. Crowley didn’t bother to drive, because the Bentley knew the way home. So, Crowley and Aziraphale sat in the front seats, holding hands, while Crowley told Aziraphale about finding his tree. And the little Christmas tree sat, carefully buckled into the backseat the Bentley, being taken home.

**Author's Note:**

> Notes
> 
> There you go, the “Good Omens”/ “Charlie Brown Christmas Special mashup you never knew you needed! The tree farm is based, train set and all, on the Werner Tree Farm in Middlebury, Vermont, where I go to get our Christmas tree every year. Thank you to my husband Chris for copyediting.


End file.
